


A Werewolf Fairytale:  Little Red Riding Hood

by Chronojourner



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, Gen, Revisionist Fairy Tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronojourner/pseuds/Chronojourner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is upset that Derek has promised to tell him werewolf fairytales, but has not done so.  Derek decides it's time to keep his promise, so he reads Stiles the "original" version of Little Red Riding Hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Werewolf Fairytale:  Little Red Riding Hood

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Heidi Tandy, who wanted to read werewolf fairy tales, and for the ladies at NATW Podcast, who have given me ceaseless entertainment for the last couple of years.
> 
> I rewrote the introductory section (Stiles and Derek before the beginning of the fairytale). I was not happy with the way the original turned out and thought I could do better. I hope you all think this is an improvement.

“You keep promising to tell me werewolf fairytales and you never do,” Stiles said, a bit disgruntled.  “What’s up with that?”  He had looked up from brushing his teeth, and was gazing at Derek in the bathroom mirror.

“I know… I know,” Derek said, coming up behind him and tousling his hair.  Derek loved having these sleepovers with Stiles.  It was great having someone else around the loft and he particularly loved that it was Stiles.  “We’ve just been so busy, it’s hard to find the time,” he continued.

Stiles rinsed his mouth, dried his face, and turned to face Derek, a smile quirking his lips.  “No time like the present,” he said.

“True,” Derek replied, smiling back.  Then, with one swift, fluid motion, he swept Stiles into his arms and walked out of the bathroom.

“Okay,” Stiles said, “that’s an interesting move.  Care to tell me where we’re going?”

“To bed,” Derek replied.  With casual ease, Derek strolled to the bed and deposited Stiles gently onto it.  Then he crossed to the other side and got into bed himself, pulling the covers over both of them.

“Um, Derek, are you going to tell me a werewolf fairytale or are we just going to sleep?” Stiles asked.  “Not that I mind the sleeping part," he added with a wink, "but I was hoping for a Fairytale first.”

“Quiet, silly,” Derek said, placing a finger over Stiles’ lips, “you have to be in bed for a bedtime story.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles said, snuggling against Derek’s large, muscular arm.  “Whenever, you’re ready, then.”

Derek smiled.  He pulled a small book from the nightstand next to his side of the bed.  “I’m going to read you the story of Little Red Riding Hood.”

“What?” Stiles asked, incredulous.  “You’re going to read me a story about a little kid and her grandmother getting gobbled up by a big bad wolf?  Like that inspires confidence in our relationship.”

“No,” Derek said, a smirk on his face, “that’s the ‘sanitized’ version after the Argent family got done with it.  I’m going to read you the original version.  Now, relax.”

“That’s a book of werewolf fairytales?” Stiles asked, astounded.

“Yep,” Derek said, thumbing through the little book.

“Seriously?” Stiles said, laughing, “werewolves have their own books of fairytales?”

“Of course,” Derek replied, “why wouldn’t we?  Now, be quiet and listen.”  Derek noticed with pleasure that Stiles visibly relaxed as Derek began to read.

 

Once upon a time there was a dear little girl from a family of werewolves who lived in a small village south of the great palace of Versailles, in France.  So sweet and kind was she, that she was beloved not only of her family, but of her whole village.  Above all, she was loved by her grandmother, an old alpha who was so ancient that she had retired from leading her pack and lived alone in the forest, a league from the village.

So much did the grandmother love the little girl that she gave her a beautiful red hooded riding cloak, made of the finest felt.  The little girl loved the cloak so much that she wore it everywhere and everyone in the village came to know her as Little Red Riding Hood.

One day her mother said to her: “Come, Little Red Riding Hood, here is a basket with a piece of cake and a bottle of wine; take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak, and they will do her good.  Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not talk to strangers for one never knows who is friend and who is foe; and when you go into you’re your grandmother’s room, don't forget to say, ‘Good morning,’ and don't peep into every corner before you greet her.”

“Of course, mother, I’ll take great care,” Little Red Riding Hood said to her mother and, taking the basket of food, started on her journey to her grandmother’s house.

Now, there was in the neighborhood of the village at the time, a huntsman of the house of Silver.  But this huntsman had rejected the sacred code of his house and hunted all were-kind mercilessly, regardless of whether they were deserving of such treatment.

Just as Little Red Riding Hood entered the wood, she chanced to meet the huntsman.  Red Riding Hood did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.

“Good day, Little Red Riding Hood,” said he.

“Thank you kind huntsman,” Red Riding Hood replied.

“Whither away so early, Little Red Riding Hood?” asked he.

“To my grandmother’s,” said she.

“What, pray, have you in the basket?” asked he.

“Cake and wine;” she replied, “yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is to have something good, to make her stronger.”

“Where does your grandmother live, Little Red Riding Hood?” asked the huntsman.

“She lives a good quarter of a league farther on in the wood,” replied Red Riding Hood.  “Her house stands under three large oak-trees, with nut-trees just below; you surely must know it.”

The Huntsman thought to himself,  ”'What a wonderful opportunity, not only can I kill the old alpha, but I can slay this tender little thing as well, before she has a chance to grow into an adult and cause havoc of her own.  I must act craftily, so as to catch both.

“Yes, I know the place of which you speak,” said he, an innocent expression on his face and guile in his heart.  “But oh, Red Riding Hood, this wood is full of predators and as I am walking your way, let me accompany you, just to ensure that you reach your grandmother’s safely.”

“Very well, kind huntsman, I shall walk with you,” said she.  And so, the huntsman fell in beside Red Riding Hood and together they walked through the wood toward her grandmother’s house.

Now, as they walked, they were seen by a young werewolf who was a beta of the local pack.  “Oh,” thought he, “Little Red Riding Hood is on her way to her grandmother’s and is walking with the huntsman.  Surely, she does not know that this huntsman kills our kind and that she is leading him straight to our alpha, who he will surely slay, and that she herself is in great danger of meeting the same fate.”

So, dropping his own work and avoiding the trail, the beta ran through the wood to the grandmother’s house.  Upon arriving, the young wolf knocked at the door.

“Who is there?” asked the elderly alpha.

“It is I,” said the young wolf, “a beta in your pack.  I have come to warn you of great danger approaching and that you and your dear granddaughter are in peril from a huntsman of the house of Silver.  Please let me in.”

“Lift the latch,” called out the grandmother, “for I am too weak and cannot get up.”

The beta lifted the latch, the door sprang open, and he entered.  Making straight for the grandmother’s bed, the beta went down on one knee in homage and said, “Oh great alpha, Little Red Riding Hood comes hither accompanied by the huntsman of the house of Silver of whom we’ve been warned.  I fear that she knows not of his wicked ways and that he will slay both of you when he arrives.”

So, the grandmother and the beta made a plan to thwart the evil huntsman’s designs.  The beta helped the grandmother hide in the closet, then he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed and drew the curtains.

When Little Red Riding Hood and the huntsman arrived, they were surprised to find the cottage door standing open, and when they went into the grandmother’s room and found the curtains of the bed drawn, Red Riding Hood was most concerned.

“Grandmother, are you alright?” asked she.

“I am weak child, but who is with you?” came the reply.

“A kind huntsman,” said she, “who has accompanied me through the wood to keep me safe.”

Concerned at the odd sound of her grandmother’s voice, Little Red Riding Hood drew back the curtains to find her grandmother lying there with her cap pulled far over her face, and looking very strange.

“Oh, grandmother,” said she, “what big ears you have!”

“All the better to hear you with, my child,” was the reply.

“But, grandmother, what big eyes you have!” said she.

“All the better to see you with, my child,” was the reply.

“But, grandmother, what big hands you have!” said she.

“All the better to hug you with my child,” was the reply.

“Oh! But grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!” said she.

“The better to rip that evil huntsman to shreds with, before he can kill us all,” shouted the beta, and he leapt from the bed and attacked the huntsman, pushing Little Red Riding Hood out of the way as he did so.

A great battle ensued.  The beta and the huntsman each struggling to get the upper hand.  They smashed furniture and cracked walls.  Poor Little Red Riding Hood huddled in a corner, terrified.

Finally, the huntsman stabbed the beta with a knife that had been laced with wolf’s bane.  The beta fell to the floor howling and writhing in agony.  Then, the huntsman turned to Red Riding Hood, a leering smile on his face.  “Now for you, my pretty,” said he, pulling another dagger from his coat.

“I will gut you like the little beastie you are,” said he, as he approached her.

“Not my granddaughter you won’t!” shouted the grandmother, summoning all of her remaining alpha strength and leaping from the closet.  She pounced upon the unsuspecting huntsman, knocked the knife from his hand and bit him on the shoulder.  Then she pushed him from the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Bar the door child,” said the grandmother to Red Riding Hood, holding the door shut so that the huntsman could not reenter.

Red Riding hood jumped up from the corner where she had been hiding and grabbed a heavy square-cut timber.  Struggling under its weight, she was finally able to slip it into the metal hooks on either side of the door, that it was cut to fit.  The door adequately barred, the huntsman could not get into the house, try as he might.

Rushing to her grandmother, she hugged her.  “Are you alright, grandmother? Asked she.

“Terribly weak,” said the grandmother.  “I fear that this struggle has wasted the last of my strength.”

“Oh grandmother,” said she, “I brought you cake and wine.”  She fetched the basket from the corner and gave it to her grandmother.

Then, going to the young beta and finding him alive, she said to her grandmother, “he still lives.”

“There may yet be time to save him,” said the grandmother.  “Quick, take the poker and heat it in the fireplace.  You must burn out the wolf’s bane from his wound.  Then he shall heal.”

Little Red Riding Hood rushed to do as she was told.  Heating the poker in the fire, she stuck the tip into the knife wound and burned the wolf’s bane from it.

When all this was done, Little Red Riding Hood sat down next to her grandmother and hugged her.  Crying, she said, “Oh, grandmother, I should have done what mother told me and not spoken to anyone.  Truly, we do not know which strangers are friends and which foes.  I swear on the graves of our ancestors that I shall never do that again."

“It’s alright child,” said the grandmother, who dearly loved Red Riding Hood, “this is but one of many lessons you will learn in life, some lessons are sweet and some are bitter."

The grandmother ate the food and drank the wine, gaining strength and continued to live in her little cottage for some time, until she finally passed from the earth and went to join her ancestors.

The young beta recovered from his wounds and gained great renown throughout the region for his defense of his alpha.  He went on to marry Little Red Riding Hood’s oldest sister and became a leader in the community, both of men and of werewolves.

Little Red Riding Hood lived a long life, but was very careful thereafter about talking to strangers.  She became a wise woman of great virtue and character who was known throughout the region for her wisdom and sound judgment.

As for the huntsman, he could not bring himself to take his own life, as was the custom of his family, when they have been bitten.  So, being an evil man of foul temper and loathsome habits, when he shifted at the next full moon he became a ravening beast without control or remorse.  Eventually, he came to the great palace at Versailles.  As he ravaged through the palace grounds, his brother killed him with a pistol, thus ending his story.

The house of Silver, after much debate, decided not to take revenge on the werewolves.  They recognized that the huntsman was working to ill purposes outside their code and that the werewolves had every right to defend themselves.  The huntsman they decided in the end, got what he deserved.

 

Derek looked up.  Stiles was asleep against his arm, his breathing low and rhythmic.

“And they lived happily ever after,” Derek said in a whisper.  He kissed Stiles on the cheek and turned out the light.

The End


End file.
